


A Hunters Hospitality

by Caillieach, NightysWolf



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A little bit of Crack to top it all off, Cor's first Glacian's Festival without Regis and Clarus, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Poor guy isn't one for huge crowds but he does alright, Since there isn't really a Christmas in Eos I'm calling it Glacian's Festival instead, fluff and emotions, just a silly little Christmas fic, the Hunter's of Meldacio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caillieach/pseuds/Caillieach, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightysWolf/pseuds/NightysWolf
Summary: When the invitation to spend the Glacian's Festival - his first without Regis and Clarus - with the hunters of Meldacio comes, Cor didn't expect hearing himself accept it and yet that is exactly what happens.Unable to gracefully bow out, maybe this will be the distraction he needs?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: FFXV Minibang 2019





	A Hunters Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:**  
> 
> 
> _All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners, here: Square Enix. Any possible future original characters & plots are my own. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. I do not earn money with this. _
> 
> * * *
> 
> For this, I teamed up with the wonderful and super talented [NightysWolf](https://twitter.com/NightysWolf)!
> 
> Make sure to check out their art and expect their companion piece for this fic sometime soon!
> 
> That being said: _Enjoy!_
> 
> * * *

The usually so lush green valleys and rolling hills of Cleigne lay there before them, unusually bleak and with little beasts out and about. Most of them have sought shelter from the cutting winds to hibernate and wait for spring, Cor knows, but it still looks drab and forbidding. 

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Cor frowns unhappily and looks at the landscape flying by instead of Monica. It’s probably a little late to voice his doubts; after all it was him who arranged Dustin to take over for a few days to make this trip possible. But he’s had a little more time to think things through and the closer they get to their destination, the more Cor just wants to turn around and drive back to Caem.

“You are the one who accepted Dave’s invitation, Marshal.” Monica’s tone of voice makes it clear that she would absolutely be rolling her eyes at him right now if she wasn’t driving. “Everything is taken care of, we aren’t needed for the next two to three days, Cor. Try to relax for once, hm?”

Cor huffs, both in annoyance and amusement. He counts himself lucky to have her as one of his officers. The woman is incredibly capable, nearly unflappable and possesses the same no-nonsense attitude he has too. Cor is convinced that’s why they are working so well together but in moments like this he wishes she hadn’t lost the wide-eyed awe of him so fast and didn’t dare to call him out.

“You say that as if I never relax.” He arches a brow and looks at her from the corner of his eye. 

Monica snorts. “No offense, Cor, but since Insomnia you’ve been wound up tighter than a two gil watch. I understand why but you need to slow down a little or risk breaking soon.”

That’s...unfortunately the truth. Cor has to admit to himself that he’s been working non-stop ever since...ever since. The mere thought of Insomnia, of all that he's lost - who he's lost - hurts. And Cor knows that his efforts to keep Noctis as safe as he can be considering the circumstances is both his duty and his attempt to keep busy, stop his mind from wandering. Lucis needs someone with a clear head and he’ll be damned if he lets any more harm come to its people. Not on his watch.

Although on some days it's incredibly hard to keep going. When everything seems hopeless with the Empire growing stronger by the day. But giving up has never been in Cor's nature, something Regis and Clarus used to release him for relentlessly. He'd gladly let them call him a stubborn mule for the rest of his life if only he'd get them back.

Perhaps it’s time to listen to Monica and take a step back for a bit. With Noctis, Cid and his retainers safely in Altissia, the tension perpetually bunching up his shoulders has lessened a fraction. The Crownsguard will still make sure to keep the Empire’s attention on them and Lucis, they are planning a good many things. But…

“Fine.” Cor utters, closes his eyes and gets comfortable with his arms folded in front of his chest. It’s still a 2-hour-drive before they’ll reach Meldacio. Time enough for a little nap.

* * *

It is the dying engine which wakes him even before Monica clears her throat and calls out a quiet “Cor. We’re here.” 

Cor cracks his eyes open, yawns a little and stretches as best as he can in their car. He didn’t think he’d manage to sleep with all the things whirling around in his mind and the memories lurking just out of reach, but he must have fallen asleep at some point. Unexpected, but while he feels a little sluggish with sleep weighing his limbs down, he also feels better for it.

Meldacio has always been more of a functional place than a home and Cor appreciates its residents’ matter-of-fact attitude every time he deals with them but today, he barely recognises the hidden outpost. It looks … almost unrecognizable and Cor blinks in silent astonishment. One arm braced on the car top, he takes a good look around and takes it all in. 

The bright lights keeping the daemons away are still there at the entrance but where the area under the stone arch is usually dim at best, it’s lit up with braziers lining the street and countless fairy lights decorate the roofs and porch balustrades. More hunters than he has ever seen during his visits here are present, standing in little groups around some of the braziers for warmth, locked in conversation. 

The hum of their voices mixes with the crackling of the large bonfire they have set up in the middle of their outdoor restaurant where he can see Portuttle bustling around an enormous barbeque. The scent of cooking meat fills the crisp air and suddenly, Cor’s mouth is watering.

Until now, he hasn’t felt the usual cheer of the season considering the recent events. But Cor has always enjoyed the Glacian’s Festival and the atmosphere of the weeks leading up to it and faced with this, he can feel his lips curving up a little despite himself. 

Like this, Meldacio is beautiful but seeing everyone enjoying themselves also let's him feel the absence of his best friends keenly, and painfully reminds him of his loss. It's the reason why he would rather forget it’s the Glacian’s Festival and treat it like any other day. It’s the first one he’ll have to spend without Regis and Clarus in over 25 years and it _hurts_. 

“I know what you’re thinking but Cor,” Monica steps up to him and gives him a soft look. “They wouldn’t want you to withdraw into yourself. It hurts and it’s hard but try to enjoy yourself a little, for them?”

It takes every bit of Cor’s composure to not flinch or otherwise show that Monica’s words hit home but it’s a close thing. “You don’t mince your words, do you?” He asks drily, deliberately not addressing the Chocobo in the room. Cor knows she means well but he’d really rather not talk about it. This is...very private and his grief to deal with alone.

It is Dave’s appearance - is the man seriously only wearing his usual short sleeved shirt and vest?! - that saves him from having to convey to Monica just how little he wants to talk about this. Instead he just gives her one of his looks and then goes to greet their host.

“Dave. Thank you for having us.” Cor reaches out to greet the hunter with a firm handshake. “You’ve gone all out I see. This doesn’t look like the same place anymore.” for a second Cor wants to remark on his attire, wants to ask if Dave isn't feeling cold but refrains.

Dave’s chuckle is as rolling and deep as Cor imagined it to be. It’s a pleasant sound and surprisingly contagious, successfully driving the bad memories back if only a little. “Us hunters treasure the Glacian’s Festival, Marshal. Gives us a chance to spend some time together, give this dull place a little warmth.” Dave smiles. “Glad you could make it.”

Cor falls into step next to Dave as he follows him into the small outpost, his bag slung over his shoulder. “So you do this every year?” He arches a brow in curiosity. “Looks like a lot of effort for just one day.”

“Oh, we leave the lights up for a while, at least into the new year.” Dave grins. “It gives the boys and girls a nice warm feeling and makes this feel more like a home, especially during the dark season.” His grin fades a little as he shrugs. 

“We’d keep them up longer but the generators are maxed out as it is and with the nights growing longer…well.” The worry in Dave’s tone isn’t surprising; it’s something Cor has been thinking about a lot lately too. It is definitely worrying and something that needs to be addressed. 

But apparently not today. “Let’s not talk about these things on a day like this, Marshal.” Dave clasps his shoulder in friendly camaraderie. “The trailer’s already occupied but you’re welcome at my Ma’s place, we have enough space for you two. Drop your bags off and join us at the fire?”

"Are you sure? We wouldn't want to impose on you." Cor appreciates the offer, he really does. But sleeping in an old trailer is one thing, intruding in someone's home another. "We can sleep in the car, wouldn't be the first time."

Dave just gives him a look. "Don't be daft, Leonis, I wouldn't offer it if I wasn't sure. Besides, your lovely companion looks like she wants to skewer you for even suggesting it." He chuckles again and points in the direction of his home. “Go on, come to Portuttle’s when you’re done.”

Dave’s right. When Cor turns to look at Monica, she’s giving him a bit of a stink eye, telling him exactly what she thinks of his proposal without saying a single word.

Cor shrugs. “What? It’s called manners, Elshett.”

Monica snorts and makes for the Auburnbrie’s cabin. “No, it’s called being a stubborn mule, Marshal. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” She calls over her shoulder. “Now come on, let's drop our things off and join them. The food smells amazing.”

**  
  
**

Well, there’s really nothing Cor can say to that without coming off as either an idiot or cocky. Or both. And Monica is right, there is a delicious scent in the crisp air, promising a great feast.

* * *

It is almost entirely dark outside by the time they’ve put their things away, refreshed themselves from the long drive in the Auburnbrie's tiny but functional bathroom and are finally ready to join everyone else.

The difference in temperature between the warm inside of the Auburnbrie’s home and the crisp air outside is like day and night and Cor immediately regrets not having thought of packing a warmer coat. 

He does have one, very similar in style to the Kingsglaive uniform, just without the logo. Cor hasn’t worn it yet this winter but he’s had it for a long time and it has definitely seen better days. Technically, this is the fourth coat of the same design - the first one being a gift from Regis and Clarus to shut him up when Cor gave them grief over giving the Glaive such handsome attire compared to the Crownsguard.

That is probably why Cor hesitated to bring it with him even though he briefly considered it. It’s just a bunch of fabric but it’s a fond reminder of better times and of his best friends and Cor just hadn’t felt ready to deal with his chaotic emotions when his hand hovered over the coat.

Cor smiles grimly as he makes his way over to Portuttle’s, returning the hunter’s jolly greetings with a wave and a few mumbled words. He appreciates Dave’s invitation, he really does. But he’s not one for large crowds if he can help it so while the hunter’s are generally a nice enough people, their large numbers at present bring out Cor’s taciturn side.

“Marshal! Good to see you again!” 

Cor stops and nods in greeting. “Portuttle. You’re working your magic I see. Smells good.”

Portuttle laughs. “Aye, it’s part one of my christmas special. The Royalisk barbecue that is. It’s typically spicy, seasoned with a great many good things. You’ll like it.”

Cor has no doubt, it does sound like it. He’s about to confirm when Portuttle steps closer, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. “This year, we procured something else, too. Dave and the boys brought a Karlabos back from their last hunt! I never thought I’d see one up here, at the Vesperpool. Such a delicacy!”

Cor arches a brow. “Here? Are you sure they aren’t pulling your leg?” There’s no way a Karlabos could have been spotted here, this far inland. Cor may not be from around here but he's confident in his wildlife knowledge and Karlabos are typically found at the coast. He’d know, it’s one of his favourite meats after all.

“Aye, couldn’t believe it either at first. But we get freak occurrences like that every once in a while. Must have swum up the stream and found the underwater inlet or something.” Portuttle shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s the common theory here. But anyway, means you’ll get a right fancy meal today, Marshal.”

“And we all look forward to it, Portuttle.” Dave comes up behind the other man, two mugs of mulled wine in his hands, and amicably bumps shoulders with Portuttle. “I’m going to steal the Marshal away for a while. Don’t let us keep you from working your magic.” 

With a friendly clap on Portuttle’s shoulder, Dave motions for Cor to follow him and leads the way around the bonfire to a more secluded corner, close to the magnificent Behemoth horn displayed on the porch framing the restaurant on one side.

“I never asked but did you bring that one down?” Cor pointedly looks at the horn as he takes a seat on one of the tree trunks functioning as benches around the bonfire. It’s certainly something different than the usual look of Portuttle’s little restaurant and in Cor’s opinion, adds to the whole rustic atmosphere the hunters are apparently going for. 

Dave follows his gaze, his own expression thoughtful. “No, wasn’t me. It’s a memorial for the hunter that did. He got lucky with this one but got taken out about a year later by a pack of Mushussu of all things..”

Cor hums in acknowledgement. “Must have been one hell of a hunter.”

“Oh, one of the best, really.” Dave’s smile is fond as he remembers, reminding Cor of himself with his Crownsguard and Drautos with his Glaives. Well, until the man turned out to be a damn traitor and destroyed and killed everything and everyone Cor held dear. He shakes the memories off as best as he can. 

With the fire crackling merrily in front of them, the excited voices all around and the good company, it’s easier than usual and definitely not what Cor expected.

“You’re not so bad yourself from what I’ve heard.” Cor arches a brow and adjusts his seat until he’s comfortable. “We should go on a hunt together sometime if we get the chance.” 

Dave grins and motions at one of the mugs he brought with them. An offer Cor appreciates but he doesn't take the mug just yet.

“I’d like that.” The hunter grins. “I’ve only heard of your feats in the field but I’d like to see what you’re really made of myself.” Dave’s gaze sharpens over the rim of his mug as he takes a cautious sip, seemingly caught on something. “Would Monica accompany us, you think?”

When Cor follows Dave’s gaze, it’s Monica he sees, deep in conversation with Ezma Auburnbrie, just as when he left them 15 minutes ago. mind whirling, Cor considers the interest in Dave's voice carefully.

He turns and looks at Dave until he’s sure he has the hunter’s full attention.

“I’m not going to try and forbid you to make a move on her. Monica is a grown woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself.” He begins. ”But if you decide to pursue her and break her heart or hurt her in any way, I’m going to hunt you down and skin you alive. Fair warning.”

Cor’s gaze is as cold as the Astral his eye colour reminds people of.

“That being said, you’re a good man, Dave, and I won’t stand in your way. You could be good together.” The ice in his eyes melts as fast as it appeared and Cor chuckles. “All bets are off if you try and steal her away from my team though.”

Dave regards him silently for a moment, then nods. “Understood, Marshal. If it counts, I’m very much aware that she could kick my arse if she wanted to. Part of her charm.” He laughs, then takes another sip of his mulled wine.

“Cor.”

Dave looks quizzically at him.

“My name’s Cor. Considering for how long we’ve been working together and your invitation today, I’d say you’ve earned the right to call me by my given name.”

Finally reaching for his own mug, Cor raises it to toast Dave and takes a sip. The flavour is just a right mixture of sweet and sour and spices and explodes on Cor’s tongue.

“Mmh, this is good.” He arches a brow in intrigue. “What is it?”

“Mulled wine made from Ulwaat Berries.” Monica’s voice interrupts Dave before he can answer and she slides onto the log to Cor’s right, some kind of dark red fabric in one, her own mug in her other hand. At the arched brows she’s getting from both men, she arches one herself. “What? Ezma told me. No need to look at me like this.”

Subtle surprise registers on Cor’s face. “It’s Ezma now?” 

“Well, it gets old pretty fast to always say ‘Madam Auburnbrie this’, ‘Madame Auburnbrie that’ in conversation so she offered.” Monica smirks, knowing exactly what Cor is thinking of.

The only thing that comes to mind to describe her look is “Behemoth that got the Chocobo” and Cor narrowly avoids rolling his eyes at her. It wouldn’t be the first time, they’ve been working together over a decade and he trusts her, but he’d never do so in public. Both because he will absolutely not accidentally undermine her authority like that and because his stern, no-nonsense reputation is very useful and he’d hate to compromise it.

“She must like you, then.” Dave grins and raises his mug in a toast. “Very few actually get to call her that aside from family.”

Monica doesn’t say anything to that, a tiny self-satisfied smirk dancing on her lips. Cor can’t help but to chuckle softly under his breath. The Astrals know Monica is someone who shouldn’t be underestimated but it’s moments like these when he’s reminded of the fact again.

“What have you got there?” Cor points at the fabric Monica is still clutching in her hand and arches a brow questioningly.

“This?” Monica holds the fabric up and gives Cor a look he can’t quite decipher. “It’s a scarf. For someone I know who has caught the flu more than once because he didn’t think to wear season-appropriate clothing.”

Wry amusement. That look is definitely wry amusement directed at _him_. For a moment, Cor isn’t sure if he should laugh or stoically ignore her calling him out. Because that’s what it is - he’s caught the flu more often than he cares to admit for the very reason she pointed out.

Considering her, where they are and with whom - it’s only Dave in earshot and he’s trying hard to keep his own amusement off his face; the nerve of this guy, sitting there in only his short-sleeved shirt - Cor settles on a huffed laugh. 

“Well, give it here then.” Cor asks but before he has even set his mug aside, she’s already wrapping the scarf around his neck and all that’s left for him to do is giving her a _look_ . One that clearly says ‘ _Really? I can do that myself, you know?_ ’.

Monica just arches a brow at him and grins. “Drink your mulled wine, Cor.”

“So, Dave…”

Choosing to keep his dignity and reputation as intact as he can, Cor goes along with her suggestion and busies himself with sipping his steaming mulled wine - which really is a lot better than the stuff they’ve gotten a hold of so far. Must be the Tenebraeian berries. The scarf sits comfortable and warm around his neck and with the fire warming them...this isn’t half bad.

If given the choice, Cor would give his sword arm to get Regis and Clarus back. Hell, he’d give both arms and if necessary, his legs if only he’d get his friends back. But it is what it is and Cor knows that this is not how it works. He may hate it but this is his new reality - and although his grief is still fresh and unaddressed, this evening in the company of...friends isn’t that bad.

It’s actually quite nice if he’s honest to himself. Despite the odd hunter stopping by for a few words or a greeting or a question for Dave, they are mostly left to themselves. Cor appreciates it and even more that neither Monica nor Dave try to draw him too much into their conversation. He does chime in from time to time but here, in this place that feels a bit like training camps with his Guards felt like in many ways, Cor is content to let the evening pass by slowly.

Monica was right. Cor’s chest still feels to tight and the lump in his throat still too present whenever his thoughts drift to Insomnia, to Regis and Clarus and everyone else they lost in the Fall, but being here, trying to relax for once - it feels good.

Cor can feel the tight coil inside him unwind a little, aided by more mulled wine than is probably good for him. But he doesn’t have to drive and he doesn’t need to be on high alert here and the Auburnbrie’s couch is just a few steps away.

It’s okay.

Cor let’s himself fall and enjoys the evening and the company.

* * *

Morning comes too soon and with it a weak but annoying headache. Cor squints in the pale morning sun and wishes he could have slept a little longer but years of discipline and getting up with the sun made sure that he woke up early despite the late night they’ve all had.

Now, in daylight, there isn’t much left of the magic that lit Meldacio up last night. It looks like it always does when Cor drops by on business - an odd mix of functional and homey in a place that feels oddly claustrophobic in a way. Only the large logs functioning as benches instead of the usual plastic furniture hint at the celebration that took place last night.

Well, that and the large barbecue setup Portuttle had been too tired to clean away before going to bed, tipsy from one mug of various drinks too many, happy his cooking was met with a lot of approval. And with good reason too. Cor has to admit that he didn’t have such a feast in quite a long time and that Karlabos...that had been _really_ good.

“Thinking about leaving already, Marshal?” 

Cor didn’t hear her approach but Ezma Auburnbrie has always been light on her feet, the huntress she used to be evident in the way she moves. He doesn’t startle but he does unconsciously straighten up and adopts a more ‘professional’ expression. No more squinting unhappily at the sun, no more slouching on the balustrade.

He’s Marshal Leonis of the Crownsguard. And although he rather likes the old huntress, she’s still a business partner and as such, Cor needs to maintain a certain distance or at least he prefers it this way.

“About last night’s feast, actually. But we do need to get a move on. Please give Portuttle my regards.” Cor offers. “We leave as soon as Monica is ready. Thank you for the invitation, Madam Auburnbrie.”

Her laughter is a little rough, a little bleating reminding Cor of the goats he used to herd as a boy to earn a few additional gil and immediately after the thought crosses his mind, he feels bad about it. _‘Thank the Six reading people’s thoughts isn’t a thing despite all the weird shit in this world.’_

“I didn’t invite you, Marshal, although you’re welcome here. It was Dave’s idea. The boy likes you.” The old woman laughs again. “And he’s fond of your companion.”

Cor can’t help it. He laughs. “So I’ve noticed.”

Ezma Auburnbrie regards him with the eyes of someone who has seen too much and has no problems to identify someone’s thoughts and mood with just one look. Perhaps reading thoughts isn’t out of the realm of possibility after all. Internally, Cor rolls his eyes at himself. Yeah, right.

Still, his eyes follow the old woman as she shuffles over to her chair and lowers herself into it with an almost inaudible sigh, her struggle with arthritis evident in it. For a moment, Cor's mind threatens to veer off into the past and to Regis who made the same soft noise every so often and yet never let anyone else see how heavy a toll the ring demanded of him despite the outwardly signs. Emma's voice stops his descent into memories.

"You're a good man, Marshal, and a good commander." She offers, voice serious and earnest now. "I cannot spare more than five, maybe seven hunters but I will send a team to Tenebrae and Niflheim. Oddly enough, hunters are still mostly welcome even there. We'll keep our eyes open for your boys over there."

The image of a blond and freckled young man flashes before his eyes for a moment, followed by the three other young men under his guard and Cor's fists clench almost unnoticeably. It's not much, by far not enough for his peace of mind, but it is more than they had just a minute ago. It will have to do.

"Thank you, Madam Auburnbrie, I appreciate it. Should you ever need help you..."

"...know how to reach you, yes. Thank you, Marshal." She bestows a rare, brief smile on him. "I believe your companion and my son will join us presently, I can hear them inside."

Cor has a hard time hiding the doubt in his eyes. It wouldn't do to snub his hosts over so unimportant a thing. Only, she's right and both Monica and Dave join them on the porch just a minute or two later, deep in conversation. Cor can't quite stop his brows from arching upwards. Perhaps there really is something to the saying that sharp hearing makes up for poor vision. Once a hunter, always a hunter, hm?

Well, an interesting observation but not important right now. 

"Good morning." Cor eventually interrupts the newcomers when they seem to take no notice of Ezma and him, only nodding once in their direction. "Sorry to interrupt but we need to get going, Monica. It's a long drive."

Well, technically it's not as long as, say, to Hammerhead. But as unexpectedly nice as spending the Glacian's Festival with the hunter has been, Cor is itching to get back to his work. Dustin is a very capable man and Cor trusts him completely - but he prefers to handle everything himself.

Luckily, Monica seems to understand. She takes one look at him, nods and goes to get their things. 

"Always on the move, Cor?" Dave enquires, mildly amused. 

Cor nods. "You know how it is. These are troubled times we're living in. There's always something to be done, another scheme of the Empire to thwart."

"Well, we shouldn't let them wait then." Monica chimes in, both their bags slung over her shoulder as she steps out of the Auburnbrie's house. "Ready to leave when you are, Cor." She nods in his direction.

"Thank you for the invitation, Dave." Cor briefly clasps Dave's shoulder in gratitude. "And the hospitality, Madam Auburnbrie. You were very generous to us." Her hand feels warm and dry and her handshake surprisingly firm.

Taking his own bag from Monica who goes to exchange a few more words with the old huntress, Cor turns to Dave.

"I expect you'll hear from me soon, Dave. Whatever is coming, I have a bad feeling about it. We should probably expand our cooperation."

Dave's expression darkens, becomes serious, no trace of the jolly man from last night. "You're right. We'll keep in contact, let you know when we come across something suspicious." Suddenly, there's a hint of mischief in Dave's eyes that doesn't seem to fit their conversation. "Besides, you're technically honorary hunters by now anyway and us hunters have each other's back."

Cor can't help it, he chuckles. "Ah, so that's how it is, hm? I could have sworn you're technically part of the Crownsguard by now but I suppose this works too."

It feels surprisingly good, this banter with Dave. Cor appreciates his men and women, every single one of them. But except for Monica who sometimes teases him a little and occasionally calls him out when she deems it necessary, there's not much lightheartedness in Cor's life anymore. Most of his Guards are cordial enough but they all regard him as the Marshal, as the Immortal. Not as Cor Leonis, the man.

Not like Regis and Clarus who made sure to always keep him on his toes with their friendly banter and occasional practical jokes. This here with Dave is not the same - won't ever be the same - but it's a balm temporarily soothing the wound in his soul.

"Well, either way, we'll keep in contact. Thank you again, Dave. Until next time." Cor nods both Auburnbries goodbye and makes his way over to their car, Monica trailing behind him.

Within minutes, they are off, back on their way to Cape Caem, back to the reality of war.

Cor hadn't thought it possible but maybe accepting Dave's invitation was exactly what he needed. The memories are there, demanding his attention and the hurt is still as strong as before. But Cor feels a little more settled now that he knows moving on might be a possibility in the future.

No, it wasn't the same. But it was still good.

Face turned ro look outside the window so Monica can't see, a tiny smile, laced with both sadness and hope tugs Cor's lips up.

_'Regis, Clarus...I'll naked sure the boys will be okay. Hope your feast was as good as mine last night, wherever you are.'_

Cleigne's landscape flies by. Very few of the beasts are out but today, in the pale winter sunlight it doesn't seem as drab.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! ♥


End file.
